Red Hood: A Road to Recovery

1. The Wall

Jason Todd was not one to get upset quickly. But, when in the presence of one Bruce Wayne AKA Batman, he was a ticking time bomb. Most of their conversations ended in some sort of argument, and more likely than not, a fist-fight.

And right now, Jason was leaving the manor before he said something rash.  

He walked down the main hall and into a corridor when he saw it: the wall.

The wall was covered in hundreds of pictures, all framed, of Richard 'Dick' Grayson, Timothy 'Tim' Drake, Damian Wayne, and Bruce, most pictures also had Alfred in them, too.

He walked down the corridor. It was beautiful. Exquisite. Whatever you wanted to call it. 

Tim, Damian, and Dick watching a movie. Bruce and Damian reading. Bruce and Tim working on the computer. Dick ruffling Tim's hair. Bruce and Dick sparring. 

Every picture held a nice memory. A happy memory.

Jason crouched down.

He found one of himself, too, in the far corner of the wall, at the very bottom: It was a younger him and Alfred, in the kitchen, baking cookies. 

Jason remembered the day well.  He had begged and begged Alfred to let him help bake, and after an hour of constant annoying, the old man relented.

At some point, Bruce had entered, and taken the picture. Jason wasn't sure when. 

Jason looked at himself, he looked happy. Genuinely happy.

He tilted his head. Of course, he was happy. This was before he had died at the hands of the Joker. Before he had been revived in the Lazarus Pit. Before he had a body count. Before all his problems.

Jason shook his head. No use dwelling in the past. 

Jason got up, he wanted to see the large portrait in the middle of the wall. The one with Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian and Alfred.

Jason walked up to it. Everyone looked the same. Not from very long ago, then. They all stood, with Bruce looking as grim and grumpy as ever, Dick looking as immature and happy as ever, Tim being the only one with a NORMAL expression-other than Alfred that is, he also looked normal, standing to Bruce's right, and then there was Damian, who looked as brooding as ever. 

Something caught his eye. In the corner, in a black print: 20th of June, 2024. (I know, I know. Just go along with it. It's a FAN-fic.)

A month ago. 

Jason winced, from the bruise that was starting to form on his waist, or some other injury he had forgotten to tend to, or the fact that Bruce hadn't even asked him to come, he didn't know.

"Get a grip on yourself, Todds." He muttered,  "It's just a photo. Why would B ask? I'm the devil. I would ruin the photo."

Because he did know Bruce well enough to know that he was happy. Content.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, he heard footsteps, so he quickly found another photo of Alfred and Damian, where they were playing Chess.

"Oh, Jay, you're still here. Thank the god." A familiar voice gasped. Older than him, younger than Bruce. Dick.

"What, Dickie-Bird?" Jason asked, not looking up from the photo. He felt jealous. He missed Alfred. 

"Alfred wants to check you over. For any injuries from this night's patrol." Dick informed him.

Jason growled. "I'm not injured,"

 "Not possible." Dick retorted.

Jason raised an eyebrow, "I was bought back from the dead. You wanna question possible, and not possible?"

Dick sighed, "Just let Alfred check you over. It will take less than ten minutes."

"No, thanks." Jason snapped, as he walked past the older boy, out of the corridor, into the main hall, and then to the door. 

He opened the door. He took one last glance at his ex-home. 

"Bye, Dickie-Bird, "He left.